Reform
by onpaperwings
Summary: Rating for SLASH. Specs/Dutchy, AU. Rating and genres susceptible to change. Dutchy gets caught in a drug bust, Specs becomes his parole officer. Hmmm, this may start something...First Newsies fic, R+R!! 05/09/03, 7:18 AM: Chapter Six is UP!
1. The Bust

Reform  
  
AU Newsies slash fic  
NekoShininigami  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. If I did, you would be able to see Spot doing the wonderful pelvic thrust. But you don't, now do you? ;__; I didn't think so. Thanks go out to STAGE for telling me about Newsies and getting me hooked on Specs/Dutchy slash.   
  
Chapter One: The Bust  
Alexander Durecht, better known to his friends as "Dutchy", jogged leisurely down the darkened streets of Manhattan. Lights from the skyscrapers didn't light the streets below, which was probably just as well. The business that took place down there thrived on the dark. He wandered down into a dark alley, and a hand shot out and grabbed him.  
"Listen, Dutch," a low voice hissed in his ear. "The price just upped. Coppers are getting suspicious, and we gotta protect our...enterprises." Dutch nodded carefully.  
"I hear ya," he told the man holding him. "You can let go now, Skit." The hands released him, and Dutchy turned to face Skittery, head drug dealer of the 5th Street drug ring.  
"So, Dutchy, my pal, what can I get for ya this fine evening?" Skittery asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.  
"Just my usual, Skit. I don't get my paycheck till Friday."   
"Roger that, Dutch. The usual, coming up." Skittery disappeared for a moment, then returned, pressing a few packets into Dutchy's hand.  
"Thanks, man. Where's Race tonight?" Dutchy inquired, naming Skittery's right-hand man. Dutchy could just make out the frown on Skittery's face.  
"Race? Little bugger's the one who made the cops start sniffing around, what with those damn bets he always makes. I told him to lay low at his ma's for a while. Till stuff settles down, ya know?" Dutchy nodded, pulling some cash out of his pocket to give to Skittery. "God bless ya, Dutch." Dutchy smirked.   
"If there is one, Skit. If there is one." With that, he turned to walk away.   
Suddenly, a bright light clicked on, temporarily blinding the spectacled blonde.  
"FREEZE!" a deep voice commanded. To startled to do much else, Dutchy did as he was told. A tall man, whose features Dutchy couldn't make out, rushed forward and seized his arms.   
"What's your name?" a voice demanded in his ear.   
"A-Alexander D-D-Durecht," Dutchy stuttered, shaking like a leaf.  
"Alexander Durecht, you are being placed under arrest by the New York Police Department, East Manhattan division, for possession and suspected usage of an illegal drug. Your rights are as follows. You have the right to remain silent, as anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, who will defend you in a court of law. If you cannot afford an attorney, we will appoint you one. Mr. Durecht, do you understand these rights?" Dutchy tried to form a coherent response from trembling lips. Never in his life had he been so afraid. Police were as intimidating and frightening as they had always seemed. "Mr. Durecht, DO you understand these rights?" the man demanded again.  
"Y-yes," Dutchy managed. Obviously noting Dutchy's petrified demeanor, the stranger gently guided Dutchy to a cop car, one hand placed comfortingly, but firmly, on the small of his back. Two cops were seated in the front seats of the vehicle, and the other sat in the back alongside Dutchy, placing the handcuffs on his wrists and extracting the drugs from his pockets. The car began to pull out from the scene, and Dutchy stared out of the window, as if getting his last glimpse of New York without bars in his immediate vision.  
  
~End Chapter One~  
  
Author Notes: O_o; Wow. My first Newsies fic. AU, even. No mean feat for a meager authoress, such as myself. My mind, which lacks self-esteem, needs some feedback. Care to tell me what you think? ...Please? R+R! 


	2. Court(YES, already. I WILL work on chapt...

Reform  
Specs/Dutchy, AU, Newsies fic  
NekoShininigami  
  
Disclaimer: Yargh. My father's computer SUCKS, and thus, I lost the first draft of this chapter. I apologize to youse. NO, I do not own Newsies. You can tell because Spot has yet to do the pelvic thrust for public viewing. Hopefully, this edition of the chapter (O_o;;) will be more (s)excellent (XD Oh, yes. Yes, that one is a keeper.) than before! Yay!   
  
...God, I have to get some sleep. But first, the chapter! ::guzzles chocolate::   
  
Chapter Two: Court  
  
The first light of dawn had barely touched the cell window when a burly guard came in and shook Dutchy awake.   
"C'mon, wake up. You see the judge today." Dutchy squinted at him in mild irritation. "Get dressed," the guard confirmed. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes, so be ready." He left, closing the door behind him. Dutchy rubbed his eyes blearily and put on his glasses, looking at his suit, which hung on the single hook on the wall. The police had brought it for him, after their search of his apartment.   
Dutchy dressed, then sat on his bunk, waiting for the guard to return. It had only been a few days, but Dutchy couldn't wait to get out of the jail. It gave him a creepy feeling. He had talked with his lawyer, Bryan Denton, [1] who had told him that; as it was his first criminal offence, he would most likely be released with a minimum of six months parole. [2] He didn't expect the court case to last long at all.   
The guard returned, and escorted him to the courtroom, where he sat beside Denton. Across the hall, a young policeman caught Dutchy's eye. He looked extremely familiar, with his curly brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses. Dutchy finally placed him as the cop who had arrested him those two nights ago. Dutchy studied him with mild interest for a few moments, before returning his attention to the judge.  
As Denton had predicted, they weren't in court two hours before the sentence was passed. Dutchy was assigned an eight-month parole period. The familiar policeman had been assigned as Dutchy's parole officer, meaning he would be living with Dutchy for at least the next four months. [3] Denton ushered Dutchy outside, the policeman following close behind, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Denton hailed them a cab, and Dutchy hugged him.  
"Thanks, Denton," he whispered. "You really saved my butt, man. I owe ya one, and don't let me forget." Denton grinned at him.  
"It isn't a problem, Dutch. I was glad to help. Now, be good for the nice parole officer." Dutchy bopped him on the head. [4] The cab pulled up, and Denton opened the door for him. "Bye, Dutch. I'll be in touch." Dutchy slid into the backseat, the spectacled man close behind. The door shut, and the cab sped away from the courthouse.  
"An' good riddance!" Dutchy whispered furiously to the receding building. He turned his attention the police officer, who had remained quiet the entire time. "So, you got a name?" he asked, poking the man in the shoulder.  
"Specs," he responded. Dutchy blinked, awaiting a last name.  
"And....what's your last name?" he prompted. Specs shrugged.  
"I don't know," he answered truthfully.  
"What do you mean, you don't know? Everybody knows their own last name," Dutchy insisted.  
"I was in a car accident with my family when I was just a kid. I was the only survivor," Specs said quietly. "The price was amnesia. I don't remember a thing from my life before. I didn't know my name, so the doctors just called me Specs." [5] Dutchy gaped at him.   
"Wow, that's rough, man! Didn't any family come to get you?" Specs shook his head. The conversation was cut short by the cab pulling to a stop in front of Dutchy's apartment building. Dutchy paid the driver, and stepped out of the cab, stretching his arms. "Coming, Specs?"   
"I'm coming," the brunette confirmed, also exiting the cab. They walked inside, and Dutchy led the way up to his apartment. He fumbled in his pocket for the key, unlocked his door, and held the door open wide so Specs could see.  
"This is it! Home sweet home," he announced. "The guest room is the second door to the left, if ya wanna put your stuff in there." Specs headed off to do just that, and Dutchy walked over to the blinking answering machine.  
"Dutchy? It's Race! Where are you?? Listen man, the cops busted Skit. He's gone, Dutch! Listen, I'm going slightly crazy, so call me when you get this mess-" Dutchy hurriedly pressed the erase button, praying that Specs hadn't heard the message.   
"Who was that?" Specs asked, coming from his room.  
"Uh, just some guy from work. Wanted to give me a tip on this hot story. I'll call him when I get back to the office on Monday," Dutchy said, lying through his teeth. Specs blinked at him.  
"You're a writer?" he asked.  
"A journalist," Dutchy corrected with a grin. "I work for the New York Sun."   
"What can I call you?" Specs asked, changing the subject. "Alex? Alexander?"   
"Dutchy. Just call me Dutchy."  
  
  
~End Chapter~  
  
Author Notes: WEE!! I finished!   
[1]: Ha! Who can't see this? Who?   
[2]: I don't know if this is really what can happen. O_o;;  
[3]: I doubt parole officers *really* live with the people. It's just for the story.   
[4]: Little Dutchy Foo-Foo, hopping through Manhattan. Pickin' up the scabbers and boppin' 'em on da head! ...God, I need sleep.   
[5]: In other words, "CRAP! I have NO idea what Specs' real name is! ANGST POSSIBILITY TIME!!"  
  
I go now. Sleepy-time. I'll be sane in the morning. I promise. Please R+R, I love the feedback, and feel insecure with out it. It's my security blankie. Pleeease review! 


	3. Carry on Dancing

Reform Specs/Dutchy, AU Newsies fic NekoShininigami  
  
Disclaimer: ;__; I own nothing. I can't afford to own anything. *sigh* This chapter is much longer than the first two because a) It's a partial songfic and b) I suck at introductory chapters. So.uh.YAY! Here we go.  
  
Chapter Three: Carry on Dancing  
  
It was quite unnerving to say the least, to be sitting in your living room with a complete stranger, in total silence. Especially when that stranger was a policeman, namely your parole officer. Dutchy sighed and looked back down at the paper in his hands. The minute hand on the clock clicked into position, making the clock read 7:45. Dutchy tossed the paper down to the coffee table and stood up, looking at Specs, whose nose was buried in a book.  
  
"Specs," Dutchy began, bringing the brunette's attention to him. "Assuming you don't have any plans tonight, how about we go to a club downtown?" Specs put down his book and looked at the blonde.  
  
"A club?" he repeated, skeptically. Dutchy nodded, an amused smirk creeping across his face.  
  
"Yeah, Specs. A club. You know, dance floor, DJ, knocking back some drinks, having a good time?" Specs' brow furrowed.  
  
"I don't.dance that well," he warned. Dutchy waved his hand dismissively.  
  
"Pah," he said airily. "I have to wonder if you've ever been dancing, book-man. If you really can't dance well." he paused to wink broadly at Specs, "I can teach you. It'll be fun! We can pick up some girls, a guy or two." Dutchy grinned.  
  
"'A guy or two'?" Specs repeated, surprised. "You mean you're.you." he fumbled with the words. Dutchy's grin became wolfish.  
  
"Speak fag?" he offered. "Sure, Specs. Not many people left in this city who don't. That bother you?"  
  
"N-no," Specs said, still blinking in confusion at this new bit of information. Dutchy chuckled to himself.  
  
"Good to know, Specs-man," he told him. "Now, I'll be right back. I'm gonna go change." He eyed Specs critically. "You might want to, too," he announced. Specs blinked once more, looking down at his outfit.  
  
"What's wrong with this?" he asked. Dutchy snorted.  
  
"Oh, nothing's wrong with it , Specs," he chortled. "If you want people to know you're a cop." He laughed openly now, eyes crinkling in amusement. "Do have anything less.librarian?" Specs scowled at the insult.  
  
"I like how I dress," he said defensively.  
  
"I'll take that as a 'no'," Dutchy said. "C'mere. I should have some club stuff that should fit you." He wandered into the larger bedroom, leaving Specs to contemplate just what he had gotten himself into." As he began to follow the energetic blonde, the paper on the table caught his eye. One headline in particular, which read "Sun reporter arrested in inner- city drug bust."  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
"C'mon, Specs! You can't hide in the bathroom forever! Let me see!"  
  
"No. Absolutely not. I am not coming out." Specs' voice was stubborn and annoyed.  
  
"You big baby! I wouldn't have given you that outfit if I thought I would laugh at you in it!" Dutchy persisted. The door creaked open. "That's more like it." Specs stepped out of the bathroom, arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face. "Oh, lighten up, and let me take a look at you."  
  
On his feet were black Doc Martens, and his lower body was encased in tight, black jeans. He wore a skin-tight, blood red t-shirt, covered by a black, button-up shirt with a flame design on it. Dutchy let out a whistle and clapped his hands together. "Oh, I am a genius. You look hot. What problems could you possibly have, Specs?" Specs scowled as Dutchy's eyes looked him over once more, lighting up in appreciation.  
  
"I feel like.a pimp," he complained. Dutchy laughed.  
  
"Well, if anyone asks, I'll tell them you're my pimp, ok?" he assured the now-blushing man.  
  
"Your outfit is more conservative," Specs pointed out. "Why couldn't I wear that one?" Dutchy himself was wearing dark blue, tight jeans, casual blue tennis shoes, and a silver, button-up shirt. Dutchy rolled his eyes.  
  
"Because that outfit looks better on you," he replied. "Now, stop complaining, and let's go."  
  
They went out to the complex's parking garage, where Dutchy's car waited.  
  
They traveled in silence for a majority of the way, the only noise between them being the low squalling of the radio. The song changed, and Dutchy's eyes lit up.  
  
"Oooh! I love this song!" he cheered, cranking up the volume and singing along. "The moonlight...shines down interstellar beams. And the groove tonight.is more than you've ever seen. The stars and planets taking shape, a stolen kiss has come too late." Specs felt his head bobbing along to the tune. Not so much to the song itself, as to Dutchy's sweet tenor singing the words. Dutchy turned and looked briefly at the brunette, grinning. "You a Savage Garden fan, Specs?" Specs blinked. [1]  
  
"No, but I have a feeling that, by the end of four months, I will be." Dutchy laughed.  
  
"Very good, Specs. I see you're picking up the rules of the game." Specs had to smile.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I am." Dutchy pulled the car into a parking lot, cruising for an open spot. It took a few minutes, but he finally found one.  
  
"Great," he said, cutting the engine. "Ready, Specs?" Specs shrugged.  
  
"Only as ready as I'll ever be," he told the blonde.  
  
"That's what I like to hear!" Dutchy grinned. "Let's party."  
  
The interior of the club was everything Specs had expected, yet overwhelming at the same time. People lined every wall, bar stool, table, and square inch of dance floor. Specs swallowed hard and stuck close to Dutchy, who he hoped - prayed knew what he was doing.  
  
"Dutch! Ehy, Dutchy!" called a man behind the bar with a cowboy hat on his head.  
  
"Ehy, Cowboy!" Dutchy called back, leading Specs towards two empty stools at the bar. "How's it goin' Jacky-boy?" he asked, shaking the man's hand in a friendly manner.  
  
"All's good, lately," Cowboy said. "I can't complain, anyway. Haven't seen you around for a while. Where have you been, man?" Dutchy shrugged nonchalantly.  
  
"Places, Cowboy my good man, just places." Cowboy's gaze landed on Specs, who was staring around the club in mild amazement.  
  
"And who's this?" Cowboy asked Dutchy, gesturing at the brunette. "He your new flavor, Dutchy?" Specs face went bright red, but Dutchy just laughed.  
  
"Not exactly, Cowboy. Just a friend." Cowboy grinned shrewdly.  
  
"Sure, Dutchy. Sure."  
  
~This guy's not embarrassed by anything!~ Specs thought, looking at Dutchy's carefree smile.  
  
"Hey, stranger," said an approaching man with longish blonde hair and ice blue eyes, wrapping his arms around Cowboy's waist.  
  
"Hey, sexy," Cowboy greeted the newcomer, tilting his head to place a kiss on his cheek.  
  
"Hey, Spot," Dutchy greeted.  
  
"Dutchy! Been a while man." Dutchy grinned.  
  
"I know. So your boy-toy tells me." Spot snorted. "Anyway, just wanted to say hi. I'm gonna hit the dance floor. We'll check in with you lovebirds later." With that, Dutchy grabbed Specs' arm and led him away from the bar.  
  
"I already _told_ you," Specs protested. "I _don't_ dance!"  
  
"Well, you're about to learn," Dutchy told him. "They're playing our song!" Specs sighed and allowed himself to be pulled to the dance floor, wondering vaguely to himself, ~We have a _song_?~  
  
"You're never safe...until you see the dawn. The clock strikes past midnight, the hope is gone. To move under...In the moonlight..." The song from the car ride hummed in Specs' ears as Dutchy pulled him through a group of dancing people.  
  
"Where are we _going_?" he shouted above the music. "Won't any spot do?" Dutchy laughed, but Specs' could only hear the song.  
  
"Nope! We gotta find _the_ dancing spot!" Specs blinked in confusion, but followed Dutchy without any more questions.  
  
"Carry on, keep romancing. Carry on, carry on dancing. In the moonlight...Carry on, keep romancing. Carry on, carry on dancing..." Finally, they reached a spot that Dutchy deigned suitable, and Specs found himself pulled embarrassingly close to the blonde's body.  
  
"Ready for your dancing lesson?" Dutchy asked him. Specs shrugged. Dutchy put his hands on the brunette's hips, allowing Specs to be guided in the moves. Much to his surprise, Specs found himself slipping easily into the rhythm, and Dutchy wiggled his eyebrows at him. "I thought you said you couldn't dance!" he demanded teasingly.  
  
"I couldn't!" Specs replied.  
  
"There's a magic only two can tell...In the dark night, ultra-violet is a wicked spell. The stars and planets taking shape, a stolen kiss has come too late..." The lyrics seemed, somehow, to fit the moment, and Specs felt a blush rise to his cheeks. He prayed Dutchy would dismiss it as just dancing, but he suspected Dutchy had noticed.  
  
"In the moonlight..." Dutchy sang softly, so only Specs could hear his voice. "Carry on, keep romancing."  
  
"Carry on, carry on dancing," Dutchy's voice continued.  
  
"Carry on, keep romancing. Carry on, carry on dancing. Moving on...Moving all night..." The song ended, and Specs felt his heart rate slow back to normal.  
  
"You want a drink?" Dutchy asked, indicating Specs' flushed cheeks. Specs nodded gratefully, and Dutchy disappeared into the crowd.  
  
It didn't worry Specs when the blonde didn't return right away. He figured there was a line at the bar, and he leaned casually up against a wall. When ten minutes passed, Specs began to wonder where Dutchy had gone. After fifteen minutes, he decided to go looking for him. There was no familiar spectacled face by the bar, so Specs asked Cowboy if Dutchy had come by.  
  
"Dutch? Yeah, he was waiting in line, but some guy, a friend of his, I guess, came up behind him. They went to go talk, I guess." Specs raised an eyebrow. Spot handed him a glass of water.  
  
"Been dancing, huh? You look like you need this," he said. Specs thanked him, and continued to look for Dutchy. The last person to have seen Dutchy was the man at the door, and he said they had gone outside. Specs stepped out into the cool night air, looking around. It didn't take long for him to get an idea where his "charge" had gone, as loud, angry voices were coming from an alley nearby.  
  
"Look, Mush! I told you, Skit's in the slammer. I was _there_ when the cops busted him!" There was another noise, which sounded suspiciously to Specs like skin hitting skin.  
  
"And _I_ told _you_ that I ain't buyin' that!" Specs quietly approached, finally gaining a view of a muscled young man pinning Dutchy to the wall, one fist raised. Specs snuck even closer, trying not to cause the one Dutchy called Mush to acknowledge his existence in the alley.  
  
The fist in front Dutchy's face came forward again, but Dutchy managed to raise an arm to block it. "Well, start buyin' it, Mush, cause that's where he is." Dutchy's own fist came forward then, making contact with Mush's nose.  
  
"Dutchy!" Specs hissed, gesturing for him to get away while Mush was distracted by the pain. Dutchy turned his head and spotted him. He scrambled out of Mush's grasp, grabbed Specs' wrist, and hauled them both out of the alley.  
  
"You came to save me?" Dutchy asked, as they were running. "My hero!"  
  
"Shut up and move," Specs snapped as they approached the parking lot.  
  
"You know, I don't think he's following us," Dutchy proclaimed as they reached his car. "I think your big, bad, cop-ness scared him off."  
  
Specs scowled disapprovingly, opened the passenger door, and slid into his seat. "You wanna explain to me who that was?" he demanded, as Dutchy started the engine.  
  
"It's a long story," Dutchy warned. Specs smiled wryly.  
  
"Hey, I've got four months, remember?"  
  
~End Chapter 3~  
  
[1]: O_o; He's been doing a lot of that this chapter.Maybe something's in his eye? O_o;;;  
  
Dutchy is so fun to write as a smart-ass. XD Please R+R this chapter! Sorry it took so long. 


	4. Silent Reverie

Reform  
  
Specs/Dutchy, AU, Newsies fic  
  
NekoShininigami  
  
Ok! I will now begin the ritual of Shout Outs! ^_^  
  
Corky Higgins: ::slides toward you on knees, splats pie in face:: TA-DA! ^_^;; Thank you.  
  
Stage-sama: Damn straight he's an awesome smartass. ^^; Look no further than here, my friend!  
  
Vinyl-san: ^^; I'm glad you like it. ::humble bow:: Here's more for j00, Wise Spot/Jack shipper (and writer of Drag Newsies).  
  
Ann-san: Eeep! ::Tackled:: Mush is mean because.well, he just is. ^^; Savage Garden ROCKED. I'm so sad they broke up. ;___;  
  
Sphinx: Two times is NOT enough Tom Cruise, thank you. And Mush *is* mean, because I say so! And, for the LAST time, get out of my head, damn you!!! ::kick::  
  
AN/Disclaimer: The feedback for "Reform" has all been positive so far! Thank you soooo much, reviewers! I'm so glad and flattered that you like it! I hope to put in some romance and flashback content in this chapter. If it doesn't happen, please don't be surprised to note that I have gotten sidetracked. ^^; As you all should know by now, I own NOTHING.  
  
Chapter Four: Silent Reverie  
  
[You are pulled from the wreckage Of your silent reverie. In the arms of the angels, May you find some comfort here.]  
  
"Ah, home sweet home!" Dutchy sighed as he opened the door to the apartment. "Man, I am BUSHED. See ya tomorrow, Specs." With that, the blonde man disappeared into his room, the door shutting firmly behind him. Specs stood, paused, in the hall, quite out of sorts.  
  
"Good.night?"  
  
//////////\\\\\\\\\\\\  
  
A loud scream pierced through the silence of the night, waking Specs instantly. He fumbled around in the dark for his glasses, and slipped them on, peering at the digital clock by his bed. It read 4:30 a.m. Specs sat perfectly still, waiting for another outbreak of noise.  
  
"STOP IT!" The cry came from Dutchy's room. Specs jumped up and dashed into the hall, wrenched open the door and saw. nothing even remotely perilous.  
  
Tangled up in sheets and blankets, forehead coated with a thin sheen of sweat, Dutchy squirmed around on his bed, eyes squeezed shut.  
  
"Please, Blink! Don't do it! Please!" he pleaded to the haunting presence in his dream. "Wait, please, I can explain!" Specs crept closer, finally realizing that Dutchy was in no immediate danger, simply held prisoner by a nightmare. ((AN: *Billy Madison* Oooh, you're a quick one!)) He placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder, gently shaking him.  
  
"Dutchy," he called softly. "Wake up, Dutchy. Dutchy." Dutchy's eyes flew open. "Blink!" He looked around; his gave eventually landing on Specs. ".Specs?"  
  
"You had a bad dream," Specs said, trying to explain his presence-- *shirtless* presence-in the room. "I heard you scream and thought you were in trouble."  
  
"A dream?" Dutchy echoed, running a hand through his hair. "God." Just then, something on the blonde's torso caught Specs' eye. A long, fleshy scar ran from the bottom of his chest, past his navel, down to the top of his waistband. ((AN2: ::wiggles eyebrows at Ann::)) His eyes widened. Dutchy followed his gaze, and blushed slightly  
  
"It's just an old battle scar," he said, feigning a flippant attitude.  
  
"Battle scar?" Specs repeated, eyebrow raised.  
  
"Yup. Long, involved story."  
  
"Tell me?" Specs asked.  
  
"Well.I guess. I mean, if you really want to hear it.."  
  
//You are entering the FLASHBACK ZONE. Due to strobe lights, you should not ride if you have epilepsy!\\  
  
Dutchy is walking down an abandoned, rusty train track. About two yards down from him, there is a small form, just barely visible. As Dutchy gets closer, the details of the man take shape. He has blonde hair, very much like Dutchy's own, and is a bit taller; more intimidating.  
  
"Blink!" Dutchy calls out. The man stands stock still, giving Dutchy no indication that his call was heard. Dutchy reaches him and stands before him, feet shuffling nervously.  
  
"Where is it, Durecht"? The other blonde asks, finally speaking. Dutchy goes a bit pale, trying hard to keep a normal expression on his face.  
  
"I.uh.don't have it, Blink." Blink turns, a sudden flow of motion, and grabs Dutchy's shirt collar.  
  
"What do you mean, Durecht? Please tell me you're joking, because you *know* how I hate to be let down. Especially by a good *friend*. Right, Durecht?" Dutchy swallows hard as he is lifted off his feet.  
  
"Blink, I can explain. Listen, ok? I had trouble with my bank account and couldn't get the money for it. But it wasn't my fault, honest!" Dutchy hears a growl.  
  
"You promised me. You say you had trouble with your bank account? Well, you're about to have trouble with me." Blink throws Dutchy to the ground. He reaches into his pocket, and Dutchy sees a flash of silver.  
  
~Oh, God. He's got a gun. I'm going to die,~ Dutchy thinks. There is a noise of sudden movement, and Dutchy finds the sharp silver pressed to his throat. ~What? A knife? Christ, that's just as bad!~  
  
"Please, Blink! Don't do it! Please!" Dutchy cries, scrabbling on the unforgiving iron rails of the track. Blink follows, a dangerous glint in his eye. "Wait, please, I can explain!" The steel toes of his boots clank against the rails as he scrabbles for freedom.  
  
"I already heard your explanation, Durecht, and I don't accept it. Now you're going to find out what happens to those unfortunate people who break their promises to me." He comes forward another foot, and Dutchy does the only thing he can think of: he kicks hard into his attacker's face. He hears a cry of anguish and something falls on top of him. "You'll pay even more for that!" Fortunately, Blink is half-blinded by Dutchy's kick, and misses his intended target- Dutchy's heart.  
  
Dutchy feels the knife plunge into him right to the side of his ribcage. Blink drags it down in frustration and blinding pain, curving it centimeters away from his navel to a few inches below it. Dutchy tries to cry out, but the pain is so great that only a strangled gasp escapes his lips. He hears Blink scream again; an endless stream of obscenities, feels him roll beside him onto the tracks. Liquid fire spreads over Dutchy's abdomen, but the pain is fading, his senses fading out. Dutchy's eyes close.  
  
An old lady, living at home alone a block from the tracks, hears the screams. She runs to the phone and dials 911.  
  
//Thank you for riding the FLASHBACK ZONE! Enjoy the rest of your day here at.wherever it is that we are.\\  
  
[So tired of the straight life. That everywhere you turn-vultures and thieves at your back. Storm keeps on twisting. Keep on building the lies that you make up for all that you lack. Don't make no difference, escaping one last time. It's easier to believe.]  
  
Nostalgia proved too much for Dutchy, and he doubled over, sobbing. Specs hesitated, unsure of how to react. Tentatively, he reached over and patted the weeping man's shoulder. Unexpectedly, Specs found himself with an armful of Dutchy, as the blonde buried his face into Specs' bare chest. Specs relaxed after a moment, hugging Dutchy, trying to soothe him with gentle whispers.  
  
Dutchy huddled closer until the sobs drifted into occasional sniffles, the tears dried to salty tracks on his cheeks. He lifted his face and smiled softly at Specs.  
  
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For listening to me, I mean." Specs smiled, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug.  
  
"It wasn't a problem. I'm sorry I made you tell the story. You didn't have to, but you did. That deserves a 'thank you', too." Dutchy smiled, still looking deeply into Specs' eyes. They lapsed into a brief silence, until Specs began to feel twitchy and uncomfortable at being stared at. "Um.Dutchy?"  
  
The blonde regarded him in a serious manner, though lust sparked in his eyes.  
  
"Dutchy?"  
  
"Specs?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm.going to kiss you now." With no further warning, lips met lips in an awkward first kiss. Much to Specs' surprise, he found himself not pulling away, actually enjoying this embrace. His arms wrapped around Dutchy's briefly, until, finally, his brain registered what it was they were actually DOING. He pushed himself away, tumbling off of the bed. A trembling hand was pressed to trembling lips, eyes wide in shock.  
  
"Oh, God." The two whispered words echoed in the still and silent room.  
  
~End Chapter 4~  
  
Author Notes: Oh, BOOYAKA! Who's the bomb? You asked for more, and BOY did you get it. This is probably the longest chapter yet. Therefore: I WANT REVIEWS! DOZENS OF THEM! DELIVERED TO MY DOOR IN SACKS BY UPS GUYS.  
  
.Please? Anyway, thanks go to Stage for the idea of using Blink as the attacker. Dutchy's boots weren't really.erm.*cowboy* boots. They were.uh.steel-toed hiking boots? O_o; Work with me, people. Thanks also go to Stage and Ann for being worshipful betas. I praise j00 b07|-|. (You both, Anne. That's what it means. ^_~)  
  
I'm a Slashy Lady now! Thanks, Ann and Stage, for the official dubbing. ^_^; (Hell YES, I'd buy a shirt.)  
  
Ok. I'll shut up now. Reform, Chapter Four, wrapped up and 1:50 a.m. (See how hard I work for you people? It's because I love you. You know it is.) 


	5. Smiling in the Dark

Reform  
  
Specs/Dutchy, AU, Newsies fic  
  
NekoShininigami  
  
AN/Disclaimer: Sorry it's taken so long! I just kept procrastinating. I don't know what's wrong with me. I beg your forgiveness! ::bow:: If you don't already know that I own nothing, you obviously haven't read the first four chapters. GO! READ THEM! NOW!   
  
Shout outs:  
  
Hobbit: HA! While in your "Dutchy-in-tight-jeans" stupor, you have left your sexy UPS men unguarded! ::steals them, locks them away:: And the hostage number grows! )  
  
Stage: ::smooched:: You're getting more, Slashy Lady, you.   
  
Vinyl: Being twisted and demented is my definition of fun and cool. Aren't I in luck? More shirtless-ness and kissing here. ^_~  
  
Neffie: ::high fives back:: Glad ya like it.   
  
Khavi: Heh heh...sorry, luffly. It's in the job description, ya know? I give you Bumlets to make up for it!   
  
Megan: ::toils away for j00:: Reviews are a Neko's best friend!  
  
  
Chapter Five: I Only Smile in the Dark  
  
Dutchy stared at Specs in shock.   
  
"Did...did I do something wrong?" he asked, insecurity rising in his voice.   
  
"NO!" Specs shouted, furiously shaking his head. "No. I did. I'm wrong. I'm the bad one. Me. Bad...bad..." He hugged his knees to his chest. "Joseph said so. I'm bad." Dutchy's eyes widened as Specs drew himself in, putting up walls of fear and fierce childhood reprimands. Dutchy slid to the floor in front of the brunette, observing him cautiously.   
  
"Specs? Specs, are you alright? Listen to me, ok?" Specs nodded, but the movement was so quick, Dutchy almost missed it. "You're not bad, ok? Liking boys doesn't make you bad, or wrong. It's who you are, alright?" Specs shook his head.  
  
"Joseph said I was bad. He caught me and Bumlets...Dominic Bumlets..." Specs trailed off, biting his lip.   
  
"Dominic...was your first boyfriend?" Dutchy guessed. Specs nodded. "And Joseph was..." he drew a blank.  
  
"My foster father," Specs answered.   
  
"He...caught you...and said that being gay was bad?" Dutchy prompted. Specs quivered.   
  
"Very bad. That's what he said." Specs muscles tightened as he remembered his foster father's words. "Said I was...a...he...said..." Chocolate eyes were hidden under tightly-closed eyelids. Warm, salty tears slid down his face. Hurtful, dirty, words echoed in his mind from years ago.   
  
"Specs? I want you to forget what Joseph told you. Do you know why?" Specs didn't answer. "Because he was wrong," Dutchy continued. "Way wrong. Love is love is love, no matter the details. Alright? If you love someone, you love them wholly for who they are, not because of their gender or looks." Specs sniffled.   
  
Unexpectedly, the brunette threw himself into Dutchy's arms, hugging him tightly.  
  
"Thank you," he sobbed, burying his face into the blonde's neck. Dutchy wrapped his arms around the quivering Specs.  
  
"You don't have anything to thank me for. I didn't tell you anything that wasn't true." Chocolate brown eyes, watery yet beautiful, gazed into his own. They held a pleading tone, and Dutchy felt his breath catch in his throat. His heart raced, and he was sure Specs could feel it. Pressed together as they were, there wasn't much room to hide a racing pulse.   
  
"Specs..." he managed.  
  
"I know..." Specs said. "We...can't..." he started to pull away. Dutchy pulled him back, still breathing heavily.   
  
"Don't. Don't say we can't, because we can. If we want to, we can."  
  
"I..." Specs stammered.  
  
"Do you...want this? ...Us?" Dutchy asked, biting his lip.  
  
"Yes." It was whispered, and barely audible, but Dutchy heard it. "Yes," Specs said a bit louder. The brown eyes returned to his, and the same plead was in them. "Kiss me? Please?" Dutchy grinned widely, relieved and joyful.   
  
"You don't have to ask me twice." Their lips met for the second time that night, but this time was more like a first. Lips explored lips, which soon progressed to tongues battling for dominance. They finally pulled apart, panting, and smiling at each other.  
  
"I think...I can get used to this." Dutchy laughed softly, brushing his thumb across Specs' cheek.  
  
"Me, too."   
  
~End Chapter Five~  
  
Woo~! The chapter's finished, after such a long delay. ^_^ Thanks to all who waited for it...(not so patiently.) This chapter is dedicated to Vinyl, who stayed up with me till 2:44 a.m. when I finished it. Oh, Vinyl: "Slow Karate" ROCKS. XD I love it.   
  
Alright. Stage, in exchange for this chapter, I request a new chapter of "Seduzione". Vinyl, I want more of "Resident Sex God". I won't take no for an answer. Ann, I want more of your Swifty/Snoddy. Sphinx, more "Love is Everywhere". Khavi, can I have some more Blink/Mush? Please? And Neffie...more of your Mark/Ivan! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease.  
  
Yes. These are my plugs. Deal with them. ^_^ ((For Vinyl: _o))  
  
All right. No more ranting. I depart for the bed which calls me. Good night, all. 


	6. Good Morning

Reform  
Specs/Dutchy, AU, Newsies  
NekoShininigami  
  
Disclaimer: It's in the first chapter.   
Author's Notes: I am soooooo sorry! My muses _died_!! But now, I have my health class, and they were revived by my boredom. See, my health class stirs this deep desire within me. A desire to be deaf. _ Anyway, I just got some ideas for the next chapter, so, ::oils rust from pencil and fingers:: Forgive me if things are choppy. I'M BACK, BABY.  
  
Shout-outs: Because it's been soooo long, I'm going to skip the shout-outs this time. Thanks for all of your last reviews-keep 'em coming!  
  
Chapter Six: Good Morning  
  
Specs woke up cold...and alone. Blearily, he looked around. He saw that the blankets had been pushed back on Dutchy's side of the bed. He felt around on the nightstand for his glasses, found them, and slipped them on. Still cold, he shivered and glanced around for something warm to wear. His eyes landed on a worn-looking sweatshirt draping over the back of a chair. He decided that it would have to do, so he pushed the covers off, got out of bed and shuffled across the room to grab it.   
  
Significantly warmer, Specs opened the door and padded down the hall to the living room.   
  
Dutchy was sitting on the couch, reading the paper. Specs let a small, hesitant smile play on his lips, then he cleared his throat. Dutchy looked up and grinned.   
  
"Good morning," Specs said quietly.  
  
"Morning, Specs!" the blonde chirped. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Yes, thank you." At that moment, Dutchy noticed Specs's clothing.  
  
"You're wearing my sweatshirt," he stated, though his tone was more inquisitive than possessive. Specs blushed slightly.  
  
"I-I got cold," he stammered. Dutchy smiled and shook his head, gesturing for Specs to come closer. Specs stepped in front of him, then yipped in surprise as the blonde pulled him into his lap. The brunette's face flushed deep red.   
  
"You look cute in it," Dutchy murmured in his ear. Specs shivered at the coldness. "So you're exempt from an apology."  
  
"Um," Specs squeaked, "about last night..." Dutchy pulled back abruptly and Specs found his eyes full of a penetrating blue gaze.   
  
"Do you regret it?" Dutchy asked softly. Specs's eyes widened and he shook his head emphatically.  
  
"No! I was only wondering if-" A swift kiss halted Specs's question. Startled, Specs lost a chance to reciprocate before Dutchy pulled back with a grin. Specs faltered, having lost his train of thought.  
  
"Yes?" Specs shook his head again to clear it.   
  
"...If you did-regret it, I mean. And, well, obviously you don't, which is good, so-" Dutchy threw him a snarky smirk.   
  
"You're babbling." Specs blinked several times.   
  
"Oh...um...I guess I am. Sorry, I...didn't mean to..." Dutchy laughed and leaned in to touch his nose to Specs's.   
  
"Maybe you just shouldn't talk." Specs smiled tentatively.  
  
"I guess not." Their lips met sweetly and tenderly.   
  
~~~~~~~   
  
Specs was leaning against Dutchy's shoulder while the blonde finished reading the paper. Specs looked at the date on the page. It was Sunday.  
  
"You have to go back to work tomorrow, right?" he asked. Dutchy looked up and paused for a moment.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I do. Why do you mention it?"  
  
"Are you nervous about it?" Dutchy looked at the dark-haired man bemusedly.   
  
"No. Why would I be?" Specs shrugged and looked down.   
  
"I don't know...I was just wondering." He bit his lip in thought. "I think I would be."   
  
"Yeah, but you work for the police. I work for a newspaper. We write about stuff like that everyday." He grinned. "I don't think I have to be worried about being accepted back into the fold." Specs smiled.   
  
"You probably don't...that's good." Dutchy let the paper rest in his lap.  
  
"Were you worried for me?" he asked. Specs blushed profusely.  
  
"Um...I...maybe..." he stuttered. Dutchy chuckled softly.   
  
"Do you always take such personal interest in your parolees, Officer?"  
  
"Not usually..."  
  
The phone rang abruptly, startling them out of their conversation.   
  
"You'd better get that," Specs advised when Dutchy didn't move.   
  
"Right.." Dutchy stood up and walked into the kitchen to answer the phone.   
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Dutchy! Where the hell have you been?! I called and left a message on your machine, but you didn't answer, and there was that article in the paper..." It was Michael "Racetrack" Higgins. Dutchy's eyes widened.   
  
"Race!! You shouldn't have called, man!" Dutchy hissed.  
  
"Why? What's going on??" Race's voice was panicked.  
  
"I'm under parole, you idiot! The officer is in my living room right now."  
  
Out in the living room, Specs heard nothing but Dutchy's lowered, irritated voice. He was unable to make out exact words.  
  
"Don't call here for a while, ok? Lay low, pal. I mean it."  
  
"Ok, Dutch. Be careful around that cop." Dutchy grinned to himself.   
  
"Don't worry, Race. I've got it all under control." He hung up and returned to the living room, smiling.   
  
"Who was that?" Specs wanted to know.   
  
"Wrong number."  
  
//End Chapter Six\\  
  
Author's Notes: Duhn duhn DUHN. ) And the plot thickens... What happens in the next chapter? STAY TUNED! 


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